The First of September
by Hogwarts Online II
Summary: A series of stories taking place on the first day of the school year. A variety of characters and authors. The third collaboration from the Hogwarts Online Forum. Please read and review!
1. Nine Septembers, by greencyanide

_This is the third collaboration by the Hogwarts Online Forum. This time the prompt was to write about the first of September - of one year or of several. Please read, enjoy, and review!_

_Anything you recognise does not belong to us, but to the wonderful JK Rowling._

* * *

**Nine Septembers**

_**by **_

_**greencyanide (Ravenclaw)**_

_Severus Snape_

_September 1, 1971_

Severus sat on his trunk, his chin resting on his hands. The Hogwarts Express was billowing white smoke into the air, and he felt slightly wheezed, so he had sat down. He constantly checked his battered watch- what was up with Lily? If she was any more late, his Mum would force him to go up and find a compartment. But they had promised they would sit together in the train, just like they would spend the whole seven years together. The prospects made Severus giddy and he had to stand up and take a walk around to calm himself. He had been feeling exceptionally light the last few days, which prompted his father to ask rudely why he was bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Sev!"

One small word. A flushed voice. All it takes to send an eleven-year old boy, with eyes full of reams, into a tizzy. Lily was dragging her shiny, new trunk across the platform, towards him.

"Hey, sorry, I'm late. You know Mum- got all emotional. She hugged me about eight times before she thought it was enough to sustain her till Christmas," laughed Lily.

Severus wished he didn't smile like an idiot at seeing Lily, and said something clever. But all he could do was bare his yellowing teeth and hear Lily chatter on. He would love to hear her chatter on forever and never get tired of it.

The shrill whistle sounded through the station and Lily exclaimed, "Oh, look at me running on! Come on, Sev, the train's about to leave!"

Unable to find an empty compartment, they settled in the last one, whose sole occupant were two dark-haired boys, in deep conversation about Quidditch. One of them had glasses, and the other wore a smirk. They both had an air of arrogance about them and Severus knew better than to stir it.

He pulled out a book from his jacket and turned to Lily. "Have you checked the Defense Against Dark Arts book? It's bogus!"

Lily shook her head and laughed. "To you! I thought we have a lot to study. But you'll probably cover it all even if you sleep twenty hours a day! I'll probably fail because I don't know anything about _anything_ in Hogwarts."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't worry. We'll all start at the same page."

"Really, Sev? Because I was thinking, maybe Muggle-borns are supposed to take prior classes, you know, to get used to magic and stuff."

"You are going to learn magic in Hogwarts, just like everyone else. And I'm sure there'll be so many more Muggle-borns too."

Lily didn't look much convinced but shrugged, and leaned against Severus, reading the book he held in his hand.

Severus ran through the corridor of the Hogwarts Express, through the crowd of older students who flocked outside their compartments. This time his compartment was filled with a bunch of rowdy boys, and Lily was sitting hunched beside the window, her face pressed against the window pane.

Severus stowed his Muggle clothes into his trunk, and touched her shoulder. "Hey, what's the matter, Lily?"

Lily turned her face, and Severus realized she was crying. "This feels wrong, Sev. Tuney h- hates me. It feels wrong that I will come and she won't."

"Don't think about it now, Lily. This is you. This is it! We're off to Hogwarts!"

Lily nodded, mopping her eyes, but in spite of her self, gave a half smile.

"You'd better be in Slytherin," said Severus, encouraged that she had brightened a little.

One of the boys of the compartment, the one who wore glasses, seemed suddenly interested. "Who wants to be in Slytherin? The bunch of snakes!"

The boy beside him, whose smirk widened, drawled, "Yeah, I'd rather leave than make my mother proud and be sorted into Slytherin."

The other boy seemed impressed, "You go that right, mate. I'm heading for Gryffindor, _where dwell the brave at heart_. Like my Dad."

Severus snorted.

The boy's smile now darkened. "Got a problem with that?"

"No, if you'd rather be brawny than brainy-"

The one with the smirk cut in. "Seeing that you are neither, where are _you_ hoping to go?"

Before Severus could make an appropriate comment, Lily tugged at his hand. "Come on, Sev, let's find another compartment."

Amidst catcalls and jeers of the two gits, Severus and Lily walked out of the compartment and found a secluded spot in the corridor. Severus moodily leaned against the walls and Lily was silent too.

"Are you mad, Sev? At them?"

Severus shook his head. But he couldn't lie to himself. It had started. It had started again. Severus Snape had been a reject for the precious eleven years of his life. He did not go to Muggle school, so didn't have kindergarten friends most kids have. He did not play around with the children in his neighborhood, because they always picked on his slight frame and he found them too uninteresting. Owing to the fact that his mother had been disowned from her family, he had barely ever visited his wizard cousins. He had been a lonely child. His only hope had been to be in Hogwarts, where he could have friends, where everyone was his match. Was he hoping too much? He would still be the skinny boy, with greasy hair and patched hand-me-down robes. Come to think of it, except the possible backdrop between Spinner's End and Hogwarts, had anything changed really?

His thoughts were interrupted by Lily's gentle shake. "Sev, what are you thinking about? Look the train has slowed. I think we're here."

_Finally, we are here,_ Severus thought, contemplatively.

_~o0o~_

_September 1, 1972_

Severus sat in the empty compartment, reading Pontier Pringle's latest book on Unbrewable Potions. It was an interesting book, but Severus was having a hard time concentrating. His holidays were over, which meant he'd be spending less and less time with Lily. Of course, he was the unattractive nerd, she was the Gryffindor princess. For your information, they don't mix. They had chattered and played together during the holidays just like they used to before Hogwarts, before Houses, before the hierarchy. But now they were back, and he was in the lowest rung of the ladder, while she reigned on top.

Giving up altogether, he put down the book. Potter and Black have done their first round of taunting and picking on him today. Two more round, at the least, would follow. Before that happened, Severus would have to bide his time staring numbly out of the window.

The cornflower fields, across which the train was rattling, were the lightest of blue, specked with the yellows and reds of wild flowers growing in between them, uncared for.

He was almost able to get lost in the sunshine and the meadows and the happy things of the world, until loud voices brought him back to reality.

"Dreaming, Snivellus? Let me guess, you dreamt of a day you did not look like a stick insect smelling of dung," drawled Potter, wrenching the door of the compartment open.

"Aww, isn't that charming?" sneered Black.

Severus scowled. "No, I was actually dreaming that you two were transfigured into rare breed baboons. Oops, looks like my dream came true!"

"You!" shouted James, pulling out his wand. But Severus acted before him- he had been anticipating the move.

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted and Potter's wand flew off and hit Black in the face. Someone in the corridor ran, shouting, "Prefects! They're fighting with magic! PREFECTS!"

Severus lazily pulled out his book, as the Marauders scuffled back to their coterie.

_~o0o~_

_September 1, 1973_

" Why on earth is a young third year sitting alone in the last compartment? And you are reading!"

The silky voice made Severus look up from his book. Lucius Malfoy, the tall, suave seventh year Slytherin sat down opposite to him. Severus was not quite used to people initiating conversation with him, so he merely looked at the other boy, waiting for him to ask something.

"What book is that?" he asked, quite conversationally, but Severus was smart enough to realize there was a point of this.

" 'The Potioneers of Arabia'," he stated blankly.

"Yes, I heard Professor Slughorn say that you are brilliant in Potions, one of the best he has seen, in fact. And you did excellent in everything else too."

Severus wondered if nodding would imply he had a big head about his talents.

"Severus, you're a half-blood, aren't you? You're mother is a Prince, I have heard."

"Yes."

"It's great to have one of the Prince's in Hogwarts, considering the filth that roams the castle these days," said Lucius, fervent with disgust.

"I am not quite sure I understand you."

"These Mudbloods," said Lucius, impatiently -causing Severus to breathe in sharply- "Hogwarts is full to the brim with- _those_!"

Severus was appalled. "I don't harbour the same feelings, I'm afraid. My best friend is a Muggle-born."

Lucius stared at Severus for a long time. The he spoke, "You know, Severus, you still have a lot to learn. Including the importance of lineage in the wizarding world. You are a gem of a student; you should sort out your priorities. A brilliant young wizard like you has a world to conquer!"

Severus wanted to say that he didn't want to conquer the world, that he didn't want to show everyone he was worth a lot more respect, he didn't want to tell Potter and Black that they could very well shove it in their face because he couldn't care less. But, if he had to be honest with himself, he _did_ have a world to conquer, he _did_ want to be a somebody Lily would hang around in school without attracting jeers, he _did _want to fit in.

Lucius' eyes were twinkling. "Severus, I think you just need to set your ideals straight. You have it in you to just show the world who you are. When you are ready to really know yourself, just come by and see me."

Severus didn't know how Lucius spoke the exact words he wanted to hear, but he could only turn them over in his minds, as he would for weeks from then.

Lucius left, leaving the door open- the door of the compartment and the door of Severus' mind.

_~o0o~_

_September 1, 1974_

Severus was dreaming- rather day-dreaming. He gazed out of the window, but his eyes didn't see the dark countryside, dripping in rain and mud. He saw him and Lily, walking hand in hand in Hogsmeade, buying every kind of sweet from Honeydukes, enjoying a mug of Butterbeer, happily chatting and laughing at how they have spent the last three years without sparing each other more than one sentence per week. He could almost feel the butterflies in his stomach when he heard Lily's laughter in his reverie, and he saw himself confessing that he loved Lily, more than the bighead git Potter, and he would do so forever. He saw Lily blushing and saying she loved him too.

"Severus!"

For a moment, Severus was so startled, he couldn't fathom why the scene at Three Broomsticks dissolved and why he was seeing the drizzle-washed countryside instead. Another call helped him gather his bearings. He looked at the door of his empty (as usual) compartment.

There she was standing, in her school robes, looking as perfect as the world allowed her to be.

"Lily!" Severus' voice was rasped, from not using it for hours.

"Hi, Sev. I- er, went to change and saw you sitting here," said Lily, without entering the compartment.

Severus didn't ask her to enter. _Never ask, never get refused_. "So, looking forward to new year, right?" He hoped his cheerful voice didn't sound as fake to her, as it did to him.

It didn't- or at least, she did not notice. "Yes, absolutely! Mary said we'll have a bunch of difficult transfigurations this year. I'm really excited."

Severus smiled at her euphoria- it was amazing how it still instilled him with hope. "Yeah, I have heard that-"

But before he could finish, Potter appeared in the corridor, and shouted, "Oi Snivellus! Bothering Evans, are you?"

Lily sighed and snapped, "Shut up, Potter." She looked at Severus forlornly, and mumbled something about seeing him at school. Without bothering to wait for Severus' answer, she strode off down the corridor.

Severus turned back towards the window, wishing his reverie would resume. He did not even notice two thickset Slytherins enter his compartment.

_~o0o~_

_September 1, 1976_

Avery threw a Frog Spawn Soap at Prettle, who yelped and ran for cover, only to be smacked on the side by Mulciber's Nose-Biting Teacup, which clung on painfully to his thigh, sinking its 'teeth' in through his robes. Severus forced his eyes to stay on the page of the book, but he had not read more than three lines in the past two hours. Severus had to admit- very grudgingly- Potter and Black seemed like harmless puppies compared to Avery and Mulciber. They didn't know where to stop their pranks- if they could even be called so, which Severus doubted on several occasions.

"Snape, just shut your book, and help up can Milne- EAT THAT, SKULLFACE!- come on, Snape, try your hand, we have a nice dartboard here," he sniggered as Mulciber wrestled a cowering first year and Avery threateningly juggled a particularly large Dungbomb, which was nastier than the grin on his face. A crowd of Slytherin cheered as the boy whimpered, and Severus thought he had had enough.

He flicked his wand under his robe and quietly muttered, "_Clutziosa_"

Immediately, the Dungbomb slipped off Avery's hand and landed on his feet. The stench cleared the corridor of the spectators, while the first year wriggled out of Mulciber's grasp, as he coughed and went beet red in the sickly, green fumes rising from the Dungbomb.

With a satisfied smirk, Severus went back to his book.

_~o0o~_

_September 1, 1975_

The din inside the compartment was getting out of hand- the first years chattered like little birds with loudspeakers embedded in their throats. But their loud exclaims ('Oh, really? We have to cross the lake on boat? Cooool!') and anxious comments ("Are you absolutely sure no one is sent back if they can't pass the entrance test? I wonder what the test will be.') helped Severus soothe himself. They were young and fresh, with absolutely no care in the world. They had seven wonderful years ahead. Unless any of them were lousy at socializing, and had ambitions to join The Dark Lord, and possessed the insanity of calling their love a word unfit to be uttered.

Severus quickly tried to remember the Potion to cure knee-joint pain. _Let's see, there was powdered hellebore_... Severus' eyes stung and his throat choked... _no, not hellebore, it was Chilean Bellflower... how could I?_

Severus balled his fist and dug his fingernails into his palm. They were already red from the numerous repetitions of this practice, but he had found it helped. Gritting his teeth also helped in stemming the flow of tears that formed so often on the brim of his eyes these days. Severus went over this daily chore as another wave of pain threatened to reduce him to pieces. Severus had read about agony of lost love, but never had he imagined, it was so physical. He had a distinct throbbing pain in his temple, which increased every time his willpower broke and the shocked and hurt face of Lily Evans filled his entire mind. He also felt numb below his ribs, it was as if his stomach, and all the mundane desires it bore had absolutely vanished. And his chest- oh he did not even have words to describe the war waging in there. His heartbeat had become very erratic, like an aged patient's- sometimes it would pump once with ungodly force and he'd feel blood gushing through his body, gurgling in his ears; sometimes it would beat at such a deadpan rhythm, Severus expected it to stop any second.

Severus did not know if this pain would last forever- if it would, he had no choice but to drink poison and it was well within his faculty to brew one. He wondered how he would survive at school. Over the holidays, he hadn't seen Lily once, but at school, how would he manage to not crumble down on the ground and curl up every time he saw her face?

"Hey, are you feeling alright?" asked a concerned little girl, who had been watching him, apparently.

Severus tried to twist his mouth into a scowl, but realized he was incapable of it- his jaws were paining from grinding his teeth so hard. So, he growled, "Yes, I'm fine. Mind your own business."

The girl looked intimidated and shifted away from him. Severus leaned back on his seat and closed his eyes. He realized he had become incapable of compassion.

_~o0o~_

_September 1, 1977_

"When are you taking the Mark?" asked Avery, in quiet urgency. "Mulciber and I took it almost a year ago, but you're still not budging. Are your loyalties shifting, Snape?"

Severus looked sternly at Avery for a moment, before lazily breaking eye-contact. "I will take the Mark after I pass out of Hogwarts. That was my deal with Lucius. Why do you keep prodding me?"

"Because many have shirked from taking the Mark when time came, and I have to say, they did not meet a happy end."

"Is that a threat or a warning?"

"It's a friendly advice. I don't want you to become Nagini's dinner."

"How touching. But I can assure you, I will keep my end of bargain. I join the Dark Lord when I pass out of Hogwarts- that was the deal. And I hope this is the last time I have to explain this," said Snape dismissing Avery with his cold tone.

Avery sank back in his seat and did not speak again.

Severus heard a burst of giggles from the corridor. "So, Potter took you out for dates during holidays? What happened, oh do tell, Lily!"

Severus turned to the window, looking bored. He willed himself to _feel_ bored.

"Oh, hush! You will have to wait till we get to Hogwarts," spoke the mock-vain voice of Lily.

"Oh, you're just being mean, you know!"

"You're definitely not hearing anything with that attitude! Now go, I have to patrol the corridors."

"Oh yeah, with you and lover boy, I'm sure there won't be as much patrolling as there will be sneaking into empty compartments for a quick snog!"

"Shut up before you get a detention, Mary Macdonald!"

The other girls left with a very suggestive 'Ooooooh' and Severus sighed- he could breathe now, the hard part was over. Just as he glanced over to the door of his compartment, without any deliberate intention, Lily walked by his door.

The look on her face, when their eyes met momentarily, was of pure hatred, incomparable to any loathing he could ever feel.

There were times when it could have burned a hole through his heart. But it was another lifetime. It was another Severus Snape.

_~o0o~_

_September 1, 1991_

Severus sat on the High Table, waiting for another batch of sloppy students who entered the school for the sole purpose of dwindling their time away doing nothing useful. The entire staff looked their very best, almost anticipating the arrival of the hooligans.

Severus would have done the same thing he did on first of September every year- nothing! But today he felt intrigued.

The person whom he had been sworn to defend, was coming to Hogwarts. He was trying to decide whether he was supposed to be indifferent to the boy or hate him.

He couldn't believe it when the boy entered the Great Hall. Was it really Harry Potter and not his father? The same hair, the same face. The same arrogance, too probably.

Severus knew his answer. He was going to hate the boy.

_~o0o~_

_September 1, 1997_

_He is not coming, Lily. He will go searching for The Dark Lord's horcruxes. I will show him the way, Lily. I will help him find them._

_I am lonely, Lily, these days I am so lonely. How else would one feel, when one is a spy for both sides, when one is hiding his true loyalties from everyone in the world? After Dumbledore's death, I feel as if I am fighting the whole world alone. And I am afraid. I am afraid every moment that if I make one mistake it will cost so many more lives along with mine. I know, no matter which side wins, I will end up on the other side of death. I am not afraid of that, I am counting on it. I have suffered enough, I cannot take any more._

_Will you ever forgive me, Lily? I know I wouldn't, but you were always the kind one, the forgiving one. I just wish I had swallowed up my pride when we were still friends and confessed my feelings. Maybe it wouldn't have mattered. But knowing that I had at least tried might have assailed the pain I bear every living moment- I would give anything to erase the 'if only's and 'but's that haunt my mind even today._

There was a knock on the door and Severus' quill hovered inches above the parchment.

He swallowed hard and called out, "What is it?"

"The students will be arriving soon, Headmaster. Won't you come down to the Great Hall?" answered Amycus Carrow from the other side of the door.

"In a minute," said Severus and tossed the note he had been writing into the fire.

He watched the paper shrivel up in contact with the flames and reduce to ashes.


	2. Memories, by Blonde Pickle Mule

**Memories**

_**by**_

_**Blonde Pickle Mule (Hufflepuff)**_

_Susan Bones_

Going through the barrier the first time is like stepping through hot water, clinging to her as she crosses the boundary between the worlds. Then all the breath in her body leaves her as she stares up at the gleaming red steam train, the Hogwarts crest proudly emblazoned on the side in all its glory. It's really happening.  
On either side of the girl her parents appear, each with the same proud smile on their face. Hogwarts holds so many memories for them both, together and alone. How can she ever compare to her mother, a smart Ravenclaw- or to her father for that matter, one of the bravest Gryffindors little Susan Bones has ever met? She doesn't feel clever or brave at the moment, only small and lost in the confusion of the train station.  
"I'll go put your stuff on the train Susie sweetheart." Her father grins, dropping a kiss to his daughter's forehead and picking up her trunk with a suppressed grunt. Mother and daughter watch him stagger out of sight, giggling together. Susan is once again caught up in her surroundings, the bright colours and the smell of soot sending her heart pounding.  
When her dad comes back a few minutes later it's almost time to say goodbye, the crowds in a last-minute frenzy. Mothers fuss, children cry and the more experienced lean back with amused smiles, watching it all go by. It's always the same.  
Susan hangs out of the door window and her mother smooths a stray brown hair from her forehead. "Remember we're always proud of you Susan, wherever you end up." As soon as she meets her mother's eyes all her fears disintegrate and in Shy Susan's place is a cheerful little girl with a wide smile and an upturned nose.

The second time she stands on the platform is so much easier. Somehow after the first time, the business doesn't even affect her and she walks confidently forward and onto the train, waving a loving goodbye at her parents who are just as proud as they said they'd be.

Settling down into a compartment with her fellow Hufflepuffs Susan feels complete again, filled with that indescribable energy that only Hogwarts seems capable of creating.

The journey passes slowly over a few hours, aided by the light banter and laughter of the train's passengers. The most humorous occasion by far is when Ernie Macmillan fancies he sees a flying car out of the window, a bewildered look crossing his face as he stares at the unyielding clouds above.

This is also the first time Susan has had money to buy food, and she tries her first Pumpkin Pasty warily, immediately deciding that it's one of the best things she's ever tasted. How do muggles live without them?  
-

The third time she walks into the station is the first time she feels it; that slight tension in the air that's the result of Sirius Black's escape. Everybody's heard the stories, knows the danger, but Susan feels safe in the knowledge that her beloved school is firmly placed under Dumbledore's watchful eye.  
Someone behind her calls her name and Susan rushes to Hannah, laughing as her friend tugs her little brother with her.  
The train journey is a blur; rumours flying back and forth. Some of the ideas about Black are highly amusing- Susan highly doubts he has an animagus form of a Flamingo. When the Dementor searches the train...it's the worst she's ever felt in her life. When it leaves, it's as if the thing's taken all her insides with it.

Susan doesn't feel truly at ease until Hogwarts is once again twinkling high above her, the familiar trees melting in with the shadows on either side of the carriage.

It's good to be back.

The fourth time she walks into the station excitement is riding high. It's been an eventful summer what with the World Cup and all, plus seeing the Death Eaters with her own eyes, but everyone knows something's happening this year- something good. She boards the train with seconds to spare, shouting at her older brother over the engine. He still doesn't tell her what's going on and disapparates with a parting grin.

The feast this year is most definitely the best one Susan's seen yet. For some reason the food tastes that little bit better, and Dumbledore's put on some electric blue robes for the occasion along with a matching hat. When the Triwizard Tournament is announced, pandemonium breaks out. Susan sits dumbly in her seat for a moment, hardly daring to believe it. She's not going to enter of course (she's not exactly top of the class), but every wizarding child has heard the stories.

When the age limit is announced Susan doesn't think tonight can get any better. This year is going to be legendary.

The fifth year she walks into the station she has mixed emotions. Hogwarts doesn't feel so safe anymore, not with the still near death of Cedric Diggory- a hit far too close to home for Susan's liking. The Prophet hasn't made sense all summer, bashing the boy who claims to have seen You-Know-Who return. Susan isn't sure what to believe.

Harry _did _stop him before after all, and look at all the things he's _done! _Surely there has to be something to his story...right?

Later on as she's lying in her dormitory, she finds herself even more confused than before, if slightly amused. While Umbridge certainly didn't make a lot of sense, her fluffy pink cardigan said it all. Even so, its done nothing to win over her students who remain decidedly unimpressed. Interrupting Dumbledore is like insulting the whole school; Susan's sure some of the Slytherins looked affronted even if they'd never admit to it. She also remembers the irritated look on the other teacher's faces- if that doesn't prove something Susan doesn't know what does. Even so...there's something about Dolores Umbridge. Something dangerous.

The last of her Room-mates drift into sleep, and her last conscious thought is of her new Professor on a lily pad, a fly circling her head.

The sixth time she enters the station everything is wrong. There is stress on every face, lines where once was smooth skin. You-Know-Who is back and the world is in shock, caught vulnerable like a deer in the headlights.

Susan keenly feels the absence of her father, so swamped down with work at the Ministry he didn't even have the time to see her off. The tension is building, and she's never felt so exposed. Even with her DA training, Susan's never been in a _real _fight. She's a Hufflepuff! She's meant to be the peaceful one! It's becoming increasingly apparent that being a badger won't save her.

She's glad to get on the train and just forget for a while, immersing herself in the familiarity and comfort of her friends. It's nice to know some things don't change.

The seventh time she walks onto that train is the worst she's ever felt in her life. Fear clouds the air, so thick you can almost cut it. Everyone knows a storm is coming, and for those pledged to resist...well, at the moment hope is dwindling. Dumbledore's gone, the Ministry crumbling.  
In all honesty Susan just wants to curl up in a ball and forget. She can't remember a time when she was in need of her father's Gryffindor courage more than now, when everything in her life seems to be falling apart. Susan sees the eager looks on the faces of the First-Years. They have no idea that the place they're going to is in no better state than the place they've left, that in reality Hogwarts isn't such a fairytale any more.  
It's in that moment that something snaps. A lion rears up in her stomach. With a set jaw she wipes her tears away, sits up, and straightens her robes. If Hogwarts isn't a fairytale now, then Susan vows that one day soon- it will be.  
-

Susan Hayes walks through the barrier, a feeling of nostalgia cloaking her. She looks down at the little girl clutching her hand and understands how her own mother felt all those years ago. Her husband appears behind them, slipping his hand into his wife's as his other drags a heavily laden trolley.

"You excited Ella?" He grins, bouncing on the balls of his feet. The child doesn't answer, though Susan feels the hand squeeze tighter around her own.

"Go put her stuff on the train, Jason. She'll be fine in a moment." Susan looks down at her daughter with a knowing smile as she stares after her father.

"You're scared you'll disappoint us, aren't you Ell?" She asks softly after a moment. Ella's head jolts upward with wide brown eyes. After a moment she nods, looking back down at the floor. Susan's heart pangs; like mother like daughter. She crouches down to her daughter's level, taking her other hand in-between her own. "I'll _always _be proud of you Ella. No matter what."  
The girl lifts watery eyes. "You promise?" All she needs is for her mother to nod before she's fine, practically bounding onto the train. Susan and Jason hear her call out as she spots the Longbottom's son Frank, then wave as the scarlet Steam Engine pulls out of the station.  
Susan leans against her husband with a sigh of contentment. _Some things just don't change. _


	3. Till We Meet Again,by Love From a Muggle

**Till We Meet Again**

**_by_**

**_Love from A Muggle (Hufflepuff)_**

_Ron Weasley_

"_September saw a month of tears," _

_Taylor Swift's song Tim McGraw_

"Ron, you only think of yourself! What about me? I want you to go to King's Cross with us tomorrow, I need you to go." Hermione crossed her arms expecting him to respond. When he didn't say anything she continued. "Please Ron?" She begged when he looked at her. Frustrated and tired of the same argument over and over she stood up from his bed and walked to the door. Harry had just shown up in the doorway.

"You talk to him, Harry. Maybe you can talk some sense into him; he's still refusing to go." Hermione left Harry and Ron alone.

"Still refusing to go tomorrow?" Harry asked as he shut the door behind him.

"I don't want to go. What's the point? I am not going back to Hogwarts this year so why should I go?" Ron said crossing his arms standing up from the bed. Harry sat down on the chair in Ron's room.

He stared at his best mate sitting before him. "To support Hermione," Harry said. "And Ginny."

"You can support Ginny. I shouldn't have to go," Ron said stubbornly.

"You know, you do need to think of others," Harry admitted. Ron glared at Harry, Green eyes stared back at Ron.

"Honestly! You're siding with her? You always side with her," Ron said angrily. The truth hurt when it came from Hermione, but it hurt more when it came from his best friend. He knew he needed to go, but he was being as stubborn as ever. He ran a finger through his fiery red hair to get it out of his face.

"Well, if you want to win her over, you will have to show her support," Harry said wisely, he looked amused. Ron didn't see how this was funny. 'Harry always had it easy with girls because he was he's famous,' he thought. Ron finally had a girl who liked him back, but he didn't ask her out right away. _'Pull yourself together, Ron. An internal battle with myself is not what I need right now,'_ he thought. Ron shook his head, sighed and stared at Harry.

"So, what should I do?" He asked him.

"Ron, go after her, tell her you will go to support her. Hermione is smart enough to know that you cannot go back to school because you have to help George in the shop. She will get through the school year without you. You will get through the year without seeing her as often too," Harry stated calmly. Ron sighed, he knew Harry was right, Harry was always right.

Ron nodded in agreement, opened the door and ran to find Hermione. He found her sitting outside. She looked pretty sitting in the bed of leaves that surrounded her. The dark browns, reds, and yellows complimented her bushy brown hair. The red sweater she wore made her glow with beauty. She looked up from the ground as he quietly approached her. He noticed tears were falling silently down her cheeks as she looked at him.

"Do you understand why I can't go with you?" Ron asked sitting on the bed of leaves next to Hermione. She shook her head no.

"No, not really," she admitted.

"Because, I am jealous, " He sighed and stared at the ground. He could not look her in the face.

"Why?" Hermione asked between the silent tears.

"Because, you get to go back whereas I have to help George in the shop He needs me now more than ever. Bill is busy becoming a daddy, Charlie went back to Romania, Percy went back to the Ministry to help Kingsley, Dad still is working at the Ministry, and Ginny is going back to school. That only leaves me to help with the shop. If I had it my way, I'd go back to school. Harry does not need to go back to Hogwarts he is an Auror already and going to start training soon. He doesn't need to finish school," Ron finished.

They sat in silence for several minutes. Ron laid down in the grass, and admired the dark August night. Hermione laid down next to him, she scooted close to him and laid on his chest listening to him breathing. He could get use to her head on his chest. He knew they had a lifetime of being us as a couple.

"I'm scared Ron. I don't want to go alone," she admitted.

"You won't be alone. You will have Ginny," Ron said sitting up, she sat up with him.

"Ron? What if I have to have Head Girl duties with Draco Malfoy?" She pretended to gag.

"You can slug him again if he dares to try anything, I'm only an owl away. Hermione, you are strong, we have a whole lifetime to be a couple. If I can go through a month without crying then so can you." Her tears finally stopped falling, she was laughing now. Hermione kissed him gently on the lips. Somewhere in the Burrow the clock struck midnight.

"It's September first now, are you coming with us?" She asked in a serious tone.

"Of course I am, I have to support my girlfriend." He smiled at her.

"Girlfriend?"

"That is if she'll have me as a boyfriend," he said happily.

"I thought you'd never ask! Of course I will!" She replied calmly. She jumped on him giving him a huge hug. Hermione stared into Ron's blue eyes.

"I could get use to this," she admitted.

"What?" He asked already knowing what she meant.

"Us hugging," she smiled at him. "I'm glad you're coming with us later today. I need you with me," she admitted.

"Come on, Hermione, it's late. If we're both going to King's Cross tomorrow we're going to need some sleep," He said taking her hand.

Ron finally caved in going, he knew he would. With Hermione he couldn't always be so stubborn. Ron was not much of a crier, but a lot had happened within the past year making him scared he would lose everyone. In a way he had lost Hermione due to school. He would be strong, and not cry even though his heart wanted him to. Ron was not one to cry a lot. But a war can change that in a person. He would be the stronger one in the relationship to support Hermione. He liked the new change that was waiting for them.

The morning madness at the Weasley household was over. Ron stared at the scarlet steam engine as it pulled away from the distance. He had kissed Hermione long and hard before she got on the train. She started crying as she walked away with Ginny right behind her. Ron promised himself that he would wait till he was alone, he wanted the Gryffindor bravery to help him out. He knew he was brave and wanted to show everyone in the world that he was strong.

September would be different at the Weasley home. It would just be Ron and his parents. He knew with his first paycheck he would save up money so he could get his own place. Ron turned to look at his mother who would not stop crying, and turned to leave. With his past behind him and the future ahead of him he was starting to look forward to the rest of September.

**Special Thanks to Slytherin Head for betaing my story!**


	4. Predictions, by Bad Mum

**Predictions**

_**by**_

_**Bad Mum (Ravenclaw)**_

_Minerva McGonagall_

Minerva had always enjoyed the Sorting. Even her own. She knew she should have been nervous, and indeed, the throng of giggling girls and frowning boys around her had been alight with tension. But she had remained serene in the midst of it.

"It will be fine," she calmly informed the two girls she had met on the train, Doris and Elona. "It will be fine. I'm going to Gryffindor."

And she had, the Hat shouting out the name of the House almost as it touched her head. Despite a Ravenclaw father and a Slytherin mother, an older brother in Slytherin and two sisters in Ravenclaw, Minerva McGonagall was a Gryffindor through and through, and she had always known it.

Two years later, she had watched unsurprised as her younger brother followed her sisters into Ravenclaw. She did not mind. She knew that she was clever enough to be a Ravenclaw (clever than any of her siblings in fact) and as Pureblooded as her brother Marius, who was a born Slytherin, but she knew that she was braver and – if she was honest with herself – much more reckless than any of them. Gryffindor was where she belonged. The Hat had Sorted her right.

Over the years, as she progressed up the school, becoming a Prefect and then Head Girl, Minerva watched the Sorting with interest. She made a game of spotting potential Gryffindors amongst the milling, chattering eleven-year-olds, and became remarkably good at it.

Once she returned to the school as Transfiguration teacher, she continued the game, feeling a definite sense of ownership and pride in those first years making their way to her own old table. And since becoming Head of Gryffindor House (an appointment that gave her more pride and delight than any of her previous – and quite considerable – achievements) the Sorting held even more significance for her. Those Sorted into Gryffindor now really were her own. Hers to lead and encourage – hers to cajole and admonish on occasion too. Every year she hoped for great things from them, for students who would do their House proud and help to win the House Cup – and if there was a decent Quidditch player or two amongst them, so much the better.

This year, she regarded the ranks of new students with heightened interest. Newly appointed Deputy Headmistress, it would be her job to place the stool and Hat at the front of the Great Hall, and her job to read out the list of names. More to the point, she was hoping from something special from her new Gryffindors. The recent first years had been good enough she supposed, but only that. There was no one outstanding among them, no spark, no real fire. The first few years of students Sorted into Gryffindor when she became Head of House, the first that were "her own" had graduated now, and, although she would do her duty by them, those remaining were in all honesty a pretty uninspired and uninspiring lot. (Even if her House loyalty and sense of duty meant that she would deny this fiercely if any other teacher dared to suggest such a thing.)

In addition, the House Cup had belonged to Ravenclaw for the last two years, and Slytherin the year before that. Last year, Gryffindor had finished ignominiously in fourth place. Minerva did not want that trend to continue. She wanted the Cup back where it belonged – in her office – and she hoped that this new crop of first years would help with that.

She scanned the list of names in her hand. There were a few she recognised. Sirius Black – he was a certainty for Slytherin of course. And another Bones boy – he would be a Ravenclaw for sure. Dorian Abbot could be a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw. The Fellowes twins would no doubt follow their parents into Hufflepuff; Jane Mead would be a Hufflepuff too; Mendan Zabini would be a Slytherin. Minerva sighed. Not an obvious Gryffindor amongst the lot of them.

She regarded the students themselves, hoping that someone whose name she had not recognised would stand out to her as a Gryffindor, someone who would have the fire that had been sadly lacking in the House lately. The red-headed girl near the back, next to the greasy-haired sallow boy who could be nothing but a Slytherin, was a possibility. There was a definite spark in her green eyes, despite her apparent nervousness, that Minerva liked the look of. And the boy at the front, with untidy black hair and glasses, grinning as he tweaked the long plait belonging to the scared-looking girl in front of him, he might be a Gryffindor too – though Minerva thought that he might be a mixed blessing if he was. There was something of the Prewett twins in the expression on his face, and they had always been almost more trouble than they were worth. The boy turned and spoke to the taller boy behind him, whom Minerva had not noticed before – black hair, slightly longer than was the fashion, black eyes and a haughty expression – that must be Sirius Black. She did not need to worry about him: he would not be hers. And the small mousy boy behind him, slightly plump and giggling nervously would be a Hufflepuff… The boy next to him she recognised – she had seen a picture of Remus Lupin when the Headmaster set his plans to bring the young werewolf to the school before the staff. Odd – if she had not known who he was, she would have said he looked like a Gryffindor. But with his history he would have to be a Slytherin: no other House could accommodate a dark creature such as him.

She became aware of Professor Dumbledore's eyes on her, and shook herself slightly. She would know soon enough. And maybe there _were_ some Gryffindors amongst the first years – someone that had passed unremarked by her sharp eyes - that would do her House proud. But she was not overly hopeful now.

She lifted the parchment scroll up and began to read: "Abbott, Dorian!"

By the time she went to bed that night, Minerva's faith in her own powers of prediction was severely shaken. But it was a year or two before she would admit – even to herself – that it was a good thing to be wrong sometimes.


	5. A Frozen Heart, by thethymeisright

**a frozen heart**

**_by_**

**_thethymeisright (Sytherin)_**

_Lysander Scamander_

_i._

His eyes (_so young, so old, so blue_) take in everything around him, wide, but not fearful, not like the children that surround him. He smiles as his brother is placed in Ravenclaw and knows that he will not join Lorcan. He has never been the intellectual one- no, he is the survivor, the one that remained standing whilst the colourful personalities of his family scattered people like leaves in a storm.

He hears his name called, the sound ringing through the Great Hall like an arrow bouncing off the walls and soaring into the heavens above. He makes the walk to the stool that his brother has just vacated, and the Hat is placed on his head.

And as soon as it has touched his head, the Hat _**knows**_, and Lysander _**knows**_ (_as he always did_), but the hall, the teachers, the students, are holding their breath, not knowing the fate of this boy who refuses to quake with fear and apprehension.

_**SLYTHERIN!**_

His face remains impassive, but his eyes seek out his brother. Lorcan looks disappointed but unsurprised, and Lysander knows that his twin had hoped to stay with him, but was too clever and knew him too well to really expect that outcome.

There are a few confused mutters from the students, and maybe the cheering from the Slytherin table isn't as loud as it has been, but a Potter has already been sorted today, and the excitement caused by the obvious placing of the boy in Gryffindor overrides the unusual sorting of the son of a War hero into Slytherin.

He makes his way over to the table, but everyone has already lost interest in him- everyone except for Professor Longbottom, who sees not an evil Slytherin, but the small son of his old friend, and he resolves to watch out for the boy with eyes like the sea (_cold and dark and _ohso_mysterious_).

_ii._

He has returned, and he gets an odd feeling in his stomach as he steps into the Great Hall- almost the feeling of coming home. It's strange, because he has no friends, yet Hogwarts is the only place he's fitted in, in a House full of outcasts and lonely people.

It amuses him how judgemental people can be over such a simple thing as a school House, but it also saddens him, because it makes him wonder how much the human race can progress if they cling onto unfounded grudges over so many generations.

In just one short year he now trusts no one but his brother, because, together, Slytherin and his own self-protection instinct have made him build up a defensive shell around himself, and only the peace of the Forest and being surrounded by plants can coax him out of it.

The Sorting that takes place before him holds no interest for him; in less than a year they will either shun him for being a Slytherin or be so hardened from being shunned themselves that they will not care about him, and Lysander proceeds to sit in silence, until he notices a flash of red fire that makes him take interest in the gaggle of First Years for the first time.

He locates the fire on the head of one of the students waiting to be Sorted, standing next to a girl whose features mirror hers exactly, but he can see the difference between them immediately. The one he noticed has an expression that he recognises from his own Sorting, because he wore it himself.

It is a look empty of fear but not cocky; one full of knowledge and cold ambition. Beside her, he sister pales in comparison, seeming small and frightened next to the powerful witch that is her sister. Dimly, he registers a name being called (_Weasley, Lucy!_), and the frightened sister steps up to the stool, looking back once, and Lysander sees the expression that is full of Slytherin melt off the first girl's face, to be replaced by one filled with reassurance and belief and _love_.

The sudden change turns his young mind over, and in that moment he realises she is the most beautiful person he has ever seen.

_iii._

It's the third time he's attended this feast, and as if by reflex his eyes seek out the girl (_MollyMollyMolly_), just as they have been for the last year. He sees her, beside her sister at the Gryffindor table, and drinks in the sight of her as he remembers, once again, how surprised he was that she hadn't been in Slytherin, and he feels the longing that comes from somewhere deep inside him crawl up and burn his throat.

She looks up, towards him, and he quickly looks away, embarrassed, instead turning to Scorpius Malfoy (_in all his pureblooded glory_), who he has somehow befriended over the last year. The other boy is smirking at him, and Lysander knows that Malfoy has caught him staring. He glares at Scorpius, and then resolves to ignore his friend (_the word still feels strange inside him_).

His mind goes to Herbology, and he sits there silently for several happy minutes as he thinks of his favourite subject, the only subject that he truly excels at- he can hold his own in all his classes, but Herbology is the one that has earned him a reputation throughout the year.

He is wrenched from his relative happiness by the Sorting Hat's annual song, and wonders why it is so much louder this year. Confused, he looks around, but no one else seems to have noticed the apparent raise in the volume of the noise coming from the Hat.

Instead, he looks inside himself, and he is alarmed to discover that his defensive shield, the one that had been so strong, so good at repelling danger, at repelling _everything_, has weakened. He repairs it, relieved that he has noticed the cracks before anything could happen to him.

_iv._

His fourth year begins, but this time he does not notice that his shield has nearly faded from existence, or that the ice that held reign inside him is melting. Over the past year, Lily Potter has quickly become his friend, after being Sorted into Slytherin (_where she shouldn't belong, but she does, even more than him_). Now he has two friends, and the ease of friendship that most people discover so naturally is part of his life as much as Herbology or Lorcan.

Lily has brought an extra light to his life- she refuses to let anyone shun _Lily Potter_- but that light is like a waning candle next to the fiery ball of warmth that Molly Weasley has handed him, merely from the snippets of conversation held between the two over the past year.

He is beginning to piece together information about her life- beginning to know her, mainly from what he has heard from Lily (_ulterior motives are an old habit of his_). She never strays far from his mind- yet he refuses to admit even to himself that what he's feeling for her is any more than friendly concern for an acquaintance.

He attempts to shake off all thought of Molly and tries to absorb himself in the Sorting- but he can see that flicker of red fire in the corner of his eye and it's all he can do not to turn and just gaze at her.

Luckily, this time, Scorpius has his own redhead to stare at, so Lysander does not have to worry about that smirk that threatens to tell Lily about how he can't keep his eyes off her cousin (_which is stupid, because he_ can).

_v._

He doesn't even get to the Great Hall before wanting (_needing_) to see her, this time. Lily has been talking him into it all year, and it's obviously worked, because he's gathering his drive- he's a _Slytherin_, he gets what he wants- and finding her compartment on the train.

He stops outside the door, suddenly afraid, but she's seen him, and it's too late to run away, like he wants to.

"Hello," he says, his stomach turning backflips. "I was wondering if I could just speak to you?" The words are out, and he can't draw them back. He notices that the girls in the compartment are glancing at each other, confused. "Molly," he clarifies, a faint pinkness colouring his waxy cheeks, and she stands up and makes her way towards him, her smile full of _Gryffindor_.

They're both in the corridor, then, and she's looking at him expectantly, but he's so caught up in her eyes (_not shallow and empty, no, not like most brown eyes seem to be, but holding a kind of sly calculation that he would relate to if he noticed it because it's _ohso_Slytherin_) that it takes him a few seconds to remember why they're here.

"Oh yes, um, Molly…" he stutters out before a voice (_it sounds strangely like Lily's_) in his head tells him to _get the bloody hell on with it_. "Well, the first Hogsmeade weekend will happen soon, and I was just wondering if you'd like to… you know…" he trails off, because she's nodding happily and he's filled with something that feels a lot like _joy_.

He staggers back to the compartment where Lily and Scorpius are waiting for him with Rose Weasley; Scorpius hadn't needed as much persuasion from Lily as Lysander. They turn to him expectantly, and he just nods and smiles, telling them everything they need to know with his eyes.

He fails to notice the irritated look in Lily's eyes, or her small fists clenching by her sides, even as she smiles and congratulates him, delivering the required banter and teasing with the practiced air of an accomplished actor. Because, for the first time, she's not getting her way, even though at first it seemed like she was, before these messy, complicated, _feelings_ came into play.

_vi._

It's been a year and still he's feeling the happiest he's ever been. Once so strong and effective, his protective shield lies at his feet in tatters, but he doesn't even _care_ anymore (_it's tempting fate_). Scorpius calls him a fool, a Hufflepuff, and that worries him sometimes, but he's drunk on pure _Molly_, and he's living his life in the way he always promised himself he wouldn't (_sooner or later he's going to get hurt_).

Because this is love, isn't it? He asks Molly, and she nods and agrees with him, so he spends more and more time with her, until she is all he can think about (_it's like hypnotism_). And it doesn't really register that he's been forgetting Lily and Scorpius, forgetting himself- forgetting it all to be a Gryffindor-wannabe.

It's blinded him to his surroundings, she's brainwashed him with her smile and her kisses, and he doesn't even notice how, when he sits with her on the train, all her friends up and leave. Her family hates that she's daring to date a Slytherin, and what he doesn't realise is that he's just another notch on her bedpost of rebellion.

His grades have gone down- only one 'O' while his brother achieved 10- and his mind wanders. His family worries that he is ill, sick from an overdose of _her_, and even Luna admits that maybe it isn't the nargles after all; maybe it's something much deeper, much more powerful. But Lysander refuses to listen when they confront him about it, instead choosing to draw further and further away from them, and all three develop a deep resentment for Molly, the girl who has changed their son so completely that they barely recognise him.

He's losing his identity, losing what made him a Slytherin, an individual, all for this girl. He would _hatehate_hate it if he was in his right mind, but he's completely, utterly _not_, and to him it's stupidly wonderful.

_vii._

He sits alone, forgoing the feast for the solitude of the forest, the place he has barely visited for the past two years.

Because she's _gone_, she dumped him, scratched his name from her life with all the care of a wolf flinging aside the meant-filched carcass of its prey. And she did it _today_, the day he was supposed to feel such happiness; their two-year anniversary and his return to Hogwarts, _home_.

It's running through his mind on repeat, bringing a deep, terrible agony...

_~"Lysander?" she said, her tone business-like as she evaded his kiss, "We're over."_

_Then she walked away, and he stared after her, confused. Understanding followed confusion, and he nearly sank to his knees from the weight of the reality suddenly heavy on his back._

_Because he was not a boy, but a man, a broken man, from then on.~_

For many minutes he remains where he is, filled with grief and loss, until, quite suddenly, he stands bolt upright. Fury has coursed into him, boiling in his veins. Because it's her fault for doing this, her fault for breaking him so completely. He feels such a hate, and he rejoices in it because it allows him, for an instant, not to hurt.

It's so powerful that he has to relieve it somehow. He grabs a branch, swings it up, ready to smash it into a tree... and stops.

What is he doing? He is a _Slytherin_, not some foolhardy Gryffindor who could gain pleasure from this kind of pointless physical violence. He can (_must_), simply and sophisticatedly, bury his anger and cover himself in his defensive shroud once more.

And that is what he does. This will be his final year at Hogwarts, and he will not waste it with frivolities.

He prepares to rejoin his rightful house.

Unlike Lysander, Lily has no trouble in _hating_ people (_her cousin is at the top of that list_), and she seethes quietly as she hides behind a tree, eyes closed as she sees Lysander's face flash under her lids, sees him fading, disappearing into himself once more. She had come, not to hug him and tell him that it would all be ok, but to plan their revenge on her cousin.

But the Lysander she saw before her was not one that would need revenge- he was a ghost, a pale imitation of what he could be, what he had been, and she knows that she will have her work cut out for her in getting him to become human again, if maybe not as stupid and trusting as he had been those past two years.

_viii._

She asked him to come and see her off, and he came because she got that look in her eye that says _do as I say or die_. His eyes are dead as he helps her to load her trunk onto the train, because being here reminds him of _pain_, and he's running away, hiding from it. Lily has tried over the past year to get him to stop burying himself, but she has had no noticeable effect.

The train is about to set off. She grabs him and pulls him away from her family, ignoring their requests for last-minute hugs. "Lysander," she says, and he is surprised by the urgency in her voice. "Promise me that you'll try to live while I'm gone." He shakes his head pathetically, because he _can't_, but she has that Look in her eyes again.

"You _can_, Lysander. Please. For Lorcan, for Scorpius." Her eyes blaze into his soul and suddenly another emotion scorches them, one that takes him by surprise. "For _me_."

He realises what the emotion is, and immediately he's scared, but there's another feeling inside him, a _good_ feeling, and that's even more terrifying because he never wanted to feel that again.

So he pulls away and pretends not to understand, tries not to let his eyes betray the turmoil of emotions (_fear, pain,_ love_?_) wrestling inside him. She seems to understand, though, and she sighs and looks down, a hurt shadowing her face that he hates to think he caused.

For a moment his resolve wavers, and he almost leans into her, nearly gives into the feelings. But he quells that urge by forcing a memory of Molly on himself (_ithurts_). Nothing could make him want to go through that pain again.

Not even Lily's eyes; dark, dark green and so sad, so aged, so heart-breakingly beautiful…

Not even that.

He embraces her, quickly and gently, taking her by surprise, then walks away, not looking back.

**Thanks to my beta, the lovely, wonderful, beautiful, amazing, **_**fantastic**_** Joelle8 :)**


	6. Change, by Frivolous Flare

**Change**

_**by **_

_**Frivolous Flare (Ravenclaw)**_

_Dobby_

It was a cold, grey, September morning, and a small, skinny creature was cowering in front of a tall, ashen faced boy with blonde hair and cold eyes.

"Let that be a lesson to you, elf." Draco Malfoy snapped, before turning on his heel and stalking off into the parlour, calling for his mother to bring his luggage to the hall. Dobby the House Elf whimpered and howled in pain as he groped around for the handle to the oven before tugging it down. The door swung open, hitting the ground with a loud thud. He flinched and moved away from the oven, freeing his bat like ears. He rubbed them and whimpered miserably, feeling a red hot groove where the door had been trapping them.

"ELF!" another, older voice bellowed. Dobby stopped rubbing his injured ears and clicked his fingers. There was a noise like the cracking of a whip, and he was in the presence of a tall, thin man who looked remarkably like Draco with the same with pale skin, and steely grey eyes. "Elf, where is that tea?"

"Dobby is sorry sir. Dobby shall get it right away, sir." The house elf replied, hunching his shoulders as he waited for a punishment.

"And when you've done that, you can beat yourself for ten minutes."

"What with, sir?"

"I don't mind." Lucius Malfoy hissed. "Something hard. Now where is that tea?"

Dobby quickly scurried off to the kitchen. September the first was always a hard day. All three of the malicious Malfoys would be up early, and much more crabby than usual. _'Elf this', 'Elf that.'_ Poor Dobby never had a second of peace during this hectic morning of mornings, and his punishments were much harsher than what was normal…which was saying a lot.

He tilted his head upwards and looked up at the large, ornate clock on the wall. He let out a very silent sigh. Only ten more minutes…ten more minutes and Draco would be in the car with his parents, being driven to Kings Cross where he would climb on board the scarlet train and be taken to Hogwarts for a whole 10 months. This would leave Dobby to get back to his usual chores; dusting, sweeping, cleaning, polishing, the works. But, on this busy day, it was pure bliss. Yes, he would be kept busy and yes, he would have to give himself those punishments promised but at least he could do them without having orders yelled at him from all sides.

After what seemed like an eternity, the whole family and their chauffeur were in the car. Draco's trunks were loaded in the boot, and they were speeding down twisting and winding country lanes to the city of London.

Dobby watched the car disappear around the corner through the large, double glazed windows. In his hands were a cloth and a bottle of cleaning fluid. He raised them and squirted some liquid onto the window, then got to work wiping it with the cloth. There was no time to celebrate his masters leaving, only time to start working.

_**~A year later~**_

A dim light glowed from torches that were mounted upon the walls of a large chamber. Dobby awoke from his slumber along with many other elves; all dressed the same with the Hogwarts crest upon their breasts. They were up earlier than usual on that day; there were things to clean and work to do. The army of elves immediately flooded out of the room, scampering around the Hogwarts corridors to make sure everything was in order. The floor was made dustless; the suits of armour were polished until they gleamed. It was heavy work as the Hogwarts castle was so huge in size, but by midday they had checked over the entire building and the grounds. But their day was far from over.

The elves poured into the kitchen area, using a secret passage way that could be accessed only by them. The stoves were lit, knives were sharpened and the many workers of Hogwarts started preparing a great feast for all the students, new and old, who were to be starting a new, or returning, for a fantastic and magical year at Hogwarts.

And as they worked and slaved over fire and heat, chopped vegetables, cleaned fruit, roasted meat and iced cakes, they smiled cheerily. That evening, they laughed and cheered as delicious food was sent up, plateful after plateful.

But one elf was smiling brighter and more jubilantly than the rest, and he was the one that cheered the loudest. It was the first ever September the 1st that Dobby had smiled.


	7. Don't Get Too Friendly, by Persephone

**Don't get too friendly**

**_by_**

**_Persephone's flower (Hufflepuff)_**

_Rose Weasley_

**Rose Weasley's dictionary**

**Hate**

_**-verb**__. To__dislike intensely or passionately; feel extreme aversion for or extreme hostility toward; detest._

People seemed to be forever trickling in, and the small area in Platform 9 ¾ seemed to just be getting even more crowded with every second that passed. The lively chatter in the air formed into a giant constantly annoying 'buzz' that hovered around her ears, following her wherever she went. They swarmed her completely, and she resisted the urge to swat her arms around her.

The thick piles of books were stacked up one on top of each other, coming to a stop right underneath her chin. She shifted the stack of books from one arm to the other, steadying them and straightening them into a straight pile so they wouldn't fall. They felt like lead weights clinging to her arms, dragging her down with each step she took.

The discomfort of wearing her school uniform was already settling in. It was a hot day, albeit sunny and cloudless, and the fact that she was wearing black and carrying a stack of thick, heavy books that her mum had told her was 'essential' for the beginning of school simply wasn't helping. It was getting hotter and hotter inside her uniform, and she was sweating immensely.

A damp piece of curly red hair was stuck to her forehead, and she briefly considered whether she should push it aside. It hung in front of her eyes, swinging back and forth, back and forth, as if to taunt her about how long it was taking her to get to the train.

_It's not my fault, _Rose thought to herself grimly, _Mum's delusional. I told her I already studied 'Fantastical Beasts and where to find them' and memorized the key points, but she didn't believe me. It's not like we even had to know it or anything, and Albus and James and even Vic didn't have to bring this many textbooks on their first day._

She paused, using her knee as a stabilizer point for balancing her books, and then swiped at the stray piece of hair, tucking it to the side. She resumed on her way, trying to quicken her pace so that she'd be able to get back and meet her parents at the train on time. Rose rounded the corner of the brick wall, her eyes focused on the ground as she concentrated on her steps.

The train whistled, alerting her that there were only five minutes left, and she raised her head, snapping it up in response to the loud, raucous noise. In her haste to look up, she hadn't seen the other boy who was walking towards her at the same moment, and they bumped into each other, sending both of them staggering back. In this case, it was too much for Rose, and the tower of books teetered, falling to the ground in an array of directions around her, where she fell on the floor.

Rose looked up at the boy, who was peering down at her with curiosity that was mirrored through both pairs of eyes. She got to her feet, crouching down and picking up the books one by one; until she had all of them safely back in her arms where they belonged. He made no motion to help her, and she could feel the unusual colour of his silver eyes burning into her back.

"You should really watch where you're going," he pointed out snarkily, his liquid silver eyes corroding as he crossed his arms over his chest, and his nose high in the air with an expression that resembled superiority.

Her face burned, colour flaming her cheeks, her face changing into a brilliant shade of red. Partially, it was out of embarrassment, because it was indeed her mistake, but partially, it was also out of anger. He was being rather rude about it, and he could have been much nicer. If it was Al, or even James, then they would have helped her up.

There was something about this boy that she immediately despised. There was a feeling that sprung up from deep inside her, swallowing her up until it corrupted her wholly.

"It wasn't like you were watching either," Rose replied to him angrily, brushing past his frame and trying to push him as hard as she could while she was passing by, but he barely faltered, still standing upright. She closed her eyes hard and imagined him falling off the side of a bridge, toppling downwards to his death.

"You know, you aren't so bad." He said to her, and she paused in her footsteps.

"Really?"

"I mean, maybe if you bothered wearing a wig, your hair wouldn't look like some animal barfed it up." He sneered. Rose was very sensitive about her hair. She knew it wasn't the straightest, especially since she inherited her mum's hair, which was thick and bushy. She touched it tentatively, pulling and tugging at the edges and seriously regretting that she hadn't mastered the spell for straightening hair yet.

"And maybe, if you stopped using gel, then your head wouldn't look as big as it does," Rose told him. He looked taken aback for a moment, losing his nasty facade. She smiled triumphantly and skipped away, or as best as a person carrying a stack of books could skip.

"Where were you, Rose?" Hermione asked, "You were supposed to be here five minutes ago." Her mum was always someone who had to be on time, had to be on schedule; else everything would fall apart. Hermione was the one who made them sleep at nine o' clock last night and wake up at eight o' clock this morning so they would be prompt and punctual arriving at King's Cross.

"I got held up, Mum. Sorry." She apologized, thinking of the blond-headed rude boy with silver eyes. The books were dropped in a heap at the side of her legs, forgotten as she stretched her arms. Albus sidled over to her, whispering to her conspiratorially.

"Rosie, you don't think that I'll get sorted into Slytherin, do you? James says that if you get into Slytherin, people levitate eggs on top of you and drop them on top of your head."

"Gee. I dunno, Al," Rose said, "but you could always fend them off with one of Uncle George's trinkets from his shop or use a shield charm. And it sure sounds like James is just trying to scare you." He didn't look convinced and stared down at his feet, no doubt wondering if his life would be over if he was sorted in Slytherin.

"So that's little Scorpius," Ron said loudly, and Albus jumped at the sound of his voice, startled. Rose followed his view of direction, and with her shock, realized that Scorpius – he was the snotty blond kid she had bumped into earlier. The rude one who had made the comment about her hair and bumped into her when she had gone around the corner of Platform 9 ¾ .

So he was a _Malfoy, _the Malfoys that her dad talked about all the time. From what she knew, they were a rich, pompous and egotistical family that cared much about wealth and riches, but also about having a pure bloodline, making fun of her mum for being muggle-born, and yet, her family still had to be nice and civil to them.

_What rubbish_. She glared in his direction, eyes boring into the back of his pale blond egg-shaped head.

"Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie. Thank God you've inherited your mother's brains." Rose said nothing, but she was sure she was capable of it. After all, how smart could someone so cruel and mean and vile be? Mum must have noticed how she was looking at Scorpius, because then, she turned around and spoke to Dad, reprimanding him.

"Ron, for Heaven's sake. Don't turn them against each other before school's even started!" Hermione wheedled.

But her parents didn't know it was something that had already started. After all, he was the one who had been nasty to her first, so she didn't see any reason why she shouldn't be able to either and return the mutual feelings. After all, it was what a bugger like him deserved, anyways.

"I know, I know," Dad admitted sheepishly, because only Mum could whip him up into such shape and force him to admit he was wrong, but he added, "Don't get too friendly with him though, Rosie, Granddad Weasley would never forgive you if you married a pureblood." He quickly moved aside to talk to Harry before Hermione could shoot him another reprimanding glare.

"I don't think you have to worry about that, Dad," Rose said, smirking, her lips curling upwards in a very Scorpius-esque way. Scorpius turned around, and their eyes connected for a brief moment, molten silver meeting ice blue. He frowned when he saw her smirking at him, and she smiled angelically at him before turning around and dragging Al towards James, who was now exclaiming excitedly to his parents the fascinating tale of how he saw Teddy and Vic snogging. (Big deal, she always knew it was going to happen someday).

_You asked for a war, Scorpius Malfoy, _Rose thought surreptitiously, grinning hard, _and now you're going to get the fight of your life._

_Because n__obody ever messes with Rose Weasley and gets away with it._

**Rose Weasley's dictionary**

**Love.**

_-noun. __A profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person_.

**Often mistaken with hate.**


	8. The Sorting Hat, by Titania Took

**The Sorting Hat**

by

**_Titania Took (Gryffindor)_**

_The Sorting Hat_

Ah. The First of September again. Pretty much the only interesting time of year for me. There's only so long you can spend locked in an office writing songs. And the portraits don't even appreciate my musical genius.

The first years were terrified as usual. Peeves probably wasn't helping, what with swooping through all their heads, but there was one corner he seems to stay away from, probably because of that girl giving him the Granger-patented death glare. It was the crazed mane of bushy hair that gave her away as being Hermione Granger's daughter, really, although the ginger-ness was a fascinating development. I like to think I control the fate of every student who comes through these doors, and occasionally I keep track of the more interesting ones after I've doomed them to whatever house I feel like at the time.

Just kidding – honest. The sorting process is a complex one that requires an incredibly intelligent hat, and I do it to the best of my ability, which is considerably more than, say, yours. That's not to say there aren't some decisions I regret… that Petigrew boy, for one.

He was difficult. There wasn't really a house he would fit in – not brave enough for Gryffindor (no really. He is the only student to his date I have known to have fainted upon his name being called for sorting. Three times.), nowhere near smart enough for Ravenclaw, not even loyal enough for Hufflepuff, and Slytherin was most certainly not somewhere he would thrive. In the end I put him in Gryffindor, as not only did he seem to be quite attached to a few people already in there, he was about to throw up from the stress of having a sentient hat on his head, and was considering using me as a puke-bag. Everyone else has been giving me gyp about that for years, although I like to put it this way – if he hadn't been in Gryffindor, things wouldn't have played out so that Harry Potter defeated Voldemort. Kindly ignore the fact that, while I have many talents, Divination is not one of them.

Ah yes. Harry Potter. I am of the belief that, ultimately, a person knows what house is right for them. And yes, I do now concede that Slytherin would not have been right for Harry in any way, shape, or form. Personally, I blame Voldemort for all of this. It's all his fault half the kid's mind was in Parseltongue, and so kind of impossible to understand, leading me to want to send him straight to Slytherin.

Rowena's portrait was still annoyed that I didn't put the Granger girl in Ravenclaw, but I stand by my argument that it was for the good of all (see two paragraphs up). Other than that, probably the most controversial sorting up till now would have been that of Sirius Black, although that one was deadly obvious once you saw inside his head – anyone with the bravery to stand up to so much familial pressure just to get sorted into Gryffindor certainly deserved to go there. Plus there was the fact that there were quite a lot who looked like they were going to be Slytherins that year, and for some reason I get blamed when there isn't enough room in the dormitories.

Of course, all that was about to change. This year, they decided to do the sorting in back-to-front order (maybe they're bored), and first up I got Rose Weasley. The Granger girl. Maybe this would be my chance to placate Rowena? She was certainly smart enough to be a 'Claw. Unfortunately, she had other plans, as I discovered shortly after voicing that thought. There were threats that most certainly should not be going through an eleven-year-old's mind, and I had to remind myself more than once that I am a genderless hat. And even though I may be the highly intelligent hat of Godric Gryffindor, I'm not really all that courageous at heart. And so she went swiftly to Gryffindor.

There were a few simple Slytherins, two definite Ravenclaws, the odd Hufflepuff after a little procrastinating, and then Albus Potter, who gave me a definite sense of déjà-vu, right down to the muttering on 'Not-Slytherin', the only difference being the lack of the scar, and the fact that his mind was not in Parseltongue, and also looked pretty smart. Perhaps this would do as my peace offering to Rowena. He hastily agreed; anything that wasn't Slytherin would be fine.

This, of course, left the hall in shocked silence. The famous son of the famous Harry Potter, not in Gryffindor. I glared pointedly, and Professor Longbottom started clapping. He was one of the sortings I was quite proud of. A Gryffindor deep down, that knew when to do as the hat told you. Eventually the confusion turned into incredibly loud applause from the Ravenclaw table. I could feel the Granger-Weasley girl glaring holes into the back of my head. Hat. Whatever.

The sorting of the Mini-Malfoy was a lot less controversial to those without the gift of telepathy, but the internal dialogue was more interesting. He also came up to the stool whispering 'Not-Slytherin', much to my confusion, although too quietly for anyone without my expert hearing to hear. Apparently he was in a mood with his family, and wanted to defy them. Unfortunately, his genius mind was more suited to Slytherin than Ravenclaw, and though he could have become a Gryff', I had a cunning plan to foster inter-house relationships, especially between Gryffindor and Slytherin, who had still not stopped arguing. It was getting to the point where Salazar and my dear Godric's portraits had had to be moved to opposite sides of the Headmaster's Office to prevent fighting. "SLYTHERIN!" I proclaimed. The kid shot me an angry look, and stalked off to the Slytherin table. HE didn't take his eyes off Miss Weasley all dinner.

Eventually, without too much extra incident, I was put to sleep for the night, where I proudly related the night's events to the portraits of the four increasingly distressed-looking founders. Godric was particularly upset at not having the Potter boy, and this saddened me, as I still cannot bear to see him unhappy. Rowena was quite pleased however, and Salazar was looking forward to being allowed to move back with the other portraits (in any dispute between Godric and Salazar, Gordric wins, and gets the sympathy of anyone around. It's that old anti-Slytherin-ism still around that I'm trying to get rid of. I tend to think of myself as a very loyal hat, but this is all for my master's own good. He needs to learn to get on with his step-brother. They've had over a thousand years now.)

Two years later also proved strange. The First of September rolled around, and I had been so busy playing the intermediary in arguments between Godric and Salazar that I had not finished my song, and had to improvise, which proved rather disastrous when I started rambling on about Gryffindor's colours mixing to make orange, and then realised there was absolutely nothing that rhymed with that.

When it came to actually sorting the students, I found rather an overload of girls begging for Ravenclaw (apparently young Potter Junior had become quite the pop icon), most of whom had to be turned down and sent to Gryffindor of Hufflepuff, and some of the scarier ones to Slytherin. There was also an influx of Gryffindors so eager to be sorted that several tripped over the steps on the way up. A lot of them seemed to have lightning-bolt shaped scars on their foreheads drawn in pen. There is a fine line between bravery and stupidity, and this was one of the times when it had been scribbled out, in red felt tip.

By the time I got to P, I was fairly sure my brain was about to melt. I was also having an identity crisis when I realised I didn't actually have a brain. So when I found myself on Lily Potter's head with the exceedingly headstrong girl threatening me with quite a lot of Bat Bogey Hexes if she wasn't sorted into the already overcrowded Gryffindor, I was prepared to just sit down and cry. Even if I wasn't actually really capable of sitting, and had no eyes or tear ducts.

"You sure you don't want to be in Slytherin?"

"If I'm not in Gryffindor, I will personally-"

"You might not want to finish that sentence. I can see into your head you know. And I did some research since last time. Bat Bogey Hexes don't work on hats. Not even magical super-clever sentient ones." She death-glared. This one was almost as bad as the Weasley-Granger girl, who was looking quite promising in my plan to unite all the houses, and hopefully get Godric's portrait out of the naughty corner for unnecessary violence in yet another fight with Salazar. Why can't those two ever get on? "Slytherin would be fun!" I added. Her head wasn't in Parseltongue, but she would make a very good Slytherin indeed. And then maybe those two men would fight less.

When I saw the plan forming in her mind of exactly what she was going to do to me if she got sorted into Slytherin, her house was decided. I did get some of that Gryffindor courage after spending so long on dear Godric's head. "SLYTHERIN!" I yelled, before she could hex me silent, and the silence from the hall was even quieter than after Potter Junior's sorting.

"I hate you," Lily announced, and strode to her seat, next to Mini-Malfoy.

There were a few more forcibly sent to houses they didn't want to be in, but I knew they would do well there, and people really got annoyed with me when dormitories were over-full. Then came the tiny Weasley kid (recognisable by the red hair and freckles).

The Weasleys were such a massive clan right now that most of Hogwarts seemed to be dominated by them, and I had no reason to suppose that this was the younger brother of the Granger-kid until I was actually on his head, held up only by his slightly sticking-out ears, and completely covering the top half of his face. There was no real likeness in their minds, and his world seemed to be dominated by thoughts of Lily and fear of his father should he not be sorted into Gryffindor.

There was no way I could get away with sending him to Gryffindor of Slytherin, but I did spy another perfect opportunity in the making for my unite the houses campaign. He was the perfect Hufflepuff, and as well as being under-pupilled so far this year, they had no members of my plan so far. Helga would be most pleased, and I would be able to ask her to find someone to look after him there. Everyone wanted to be nice to Helga. "Hufflepuff OK?" I asked. It didn't feel right not asking him. He managed a terrified nod. "HUFFLEPUFF!" I announced to the rest of the hall, and there was not the usual stunned silence that usually surrounded the stranger sortings, but instead a huge round of applause from the Hufflepuff table. Loyal as ever. I really do love Hufflepuffs.

As the evening was coming to a close, I saw Weasley-Granger girl stalk up to Mini-Malfoy, corner him, and threaten him with something I didn't quite catch but by the pale green colour of his face sounded bad, and demand that he look after Lily. I personally didn't see why she was so concerned. That kid (Lily, not Mini-Malfoy, although he might make a good one) could easily be going to be the next Dark Lord. It was an improvement, and a good sign for my plan though. At least they were talking again.

The year after that, I found myself hexed to the desk by all four portraits so I couldn't leave and make such a disaster out of sorting the students as I had done the previous year. I acted highly offended, but in secret I was pleased. Inter-house co-operation! Salazar and Godric hadn't actually had an argument that ended in violence in a whole two months! In the end, Helga undid the hex so that I could go out and do the sorting, as no one else could, and I had worked particularly hard on my song that year, and the singing when perfectly and no students took more than five minutes to sort.

Of course, when in the end it was Hugo who became the next Dark Lord (on the First of September the year after he left Hogwarts. Told you it was the only day anything remotely interesting happened in my life), with Lily, Weasley-Granger girl, Mini-Malfoy, and Potter Junior as his loyal followers, I was more than a little surprised. Fortunately, very few people are any good at reading Hat emotions, and so I was able to keep it hidden and pretend I'd known all along. And the houses united under one banner (with eight different colours of stripes that really really clashed, making me wonder if this had really all been such a good idea), Salazar and Godric promised to stop squabbling, and all were happy once more, as there was something to do again.

THE END.


	9. Train Tracks, by echoing noise

**Train Tracks**

_**by **_

_**echoing noise (Hufflepuff)**_

_Luna Lovegood_

The train whistles by; loud, screeching. Her hair whips around her like Medusa snakes, her dress flapping at her calves. She giggles and tightens her grip on her mother's hand.

"What do you think, Luna?" she asks, squeezing her hand lightly. "I've always thought that Wrackspurts might like living under the tracks... Too dark? Or just right? Would they like it, do you think?"

"Maybe," she says. Her voice is warped in her mind to match the voice she now has, but she knows that then, it was light, child-like, not as dreamy and more awe-struck. "Maybe."

Maybe is the only word she has ever needed to say. Yes and No are for the others, for the people who need a time and place, an up and down, a not-in-between. But for her and for her mother, as the train whistles by and the students (the ones that, in four years, she will be,) wave to their parents, 'maybe' is alright.

It might even be perfect.

oOo

For the first time, she can enter. It feels almost dirty, to step on after so many years of watching, of feeling the wind snap around her, but now she can sit and talk with the little red-haired girl that lives near her, (doesn't she?) and hope that she will make her father proud. Maybe she will.

oOo

It is the second time that she can board, and this time Ginny is just a bit more scared and she is just a bit more lost in her mind, but that's alright because she's on the red leather seats again and she's reading her Quibbler again and the floor bumps beneath her again and it's alright. She wonders if Sirius Black is really Stubby Bourdman.

oOo

Third time she meets a boy named Neville, briefly. He does not handle seclusion well, and she wonders what's wrong with him. Ginny seems different, slightly - something about her aura and how she holds herself. She reaches over to hold her friend's hand, and hopes that it's comfort enough.

oOo

Fourth, and someone has died. She misses Cedric terribly. He always did like her earrings.

Harry is so nice. She sees why Ginny likes him so. He should ask her out and get on with it already - she, rather cleverly, pretends she doesn't notice what's going on, but he really should ask her.

oOo

Fifth.

Fear is gripping her more than it ever did at the Department of Mysteries. She closes her eyes and grasps Ginny's hand and smiles and chats with Cho, who has always been kind, if distant, and who Ginny is trying hard to pretend to like. She asks her mother if it hurts, to go where she is.

oOo

"Si-ixth year, we're finally here..." she murmurs, and Ginny smiles at her, still a little tired-looking and a little sad but also perfect now and safe, just like she is.

She wonders if Voldemort has ever had a nargle infestation, because it certainly seems his brain has gone fuzzy.

She knows she misses Harry - (she does too! And Hermione and Ron and Neville...) So she says,

"Do you ever miss Cedric Diggory?"

And Ginny laughs and smiles and sobs and nods her head and doesn't at the same time.

Maybe they'll die here. Maybe they won't.


	10. Her Mother's Daughter, by Julia Claire

**Her Mother's Daughter**

_**by**_

_**Julia Claire (Ravenclaw)**_

_Hannah Abbott_

Nothing was the same anymore, and it scared her.

She wondered dimly where all the happiness had gone to. The whole platform seemed gray, the once beautiful scarlet steam engine now looked blood-red, and the billowing steam that used to smell of new beginnings choked her. Her father could only stare blankly at the train, apparently incapable of saying anything. Around them, people huddled in groups, looking around fearfully, uncertainly. Instead of nervous excitement on the first years' faces there was only barely-concealed terror.

No one felt safe these days, not with the war going on. These last few months, there had been more and more deaths, more and more disappearances, so that the question was no longer _if_, but _when_ and _who_. There was, after all, no running from it: sooner or later, someone you loved was going to die - it was the unavoidable truth. For Hannah, it had happened sooner.

It was impossible to stand in this place, and not be flooded with memories. Platform 9 3/4 had been the last place she'd ever seen her mum - alive, anyway - exactly one year ago today. Hannah had had letters from her, of course, after that, but it wasn't the same - it never would be.

When Hannah closed her eyes, she could still see her, cheeks rosy, laughing as she waved goodbye to her only daughter forever. There was none of her mother left in this place anymore, none of her rosiness, her laughter, none of her stubbornness, her beauty. Somehow, Hannah had expected there to be _something, _something to let her know that her mum had not left her completely alone, something to brighten the tiniest corner of all the gray - but there was nothing. Her mother was gone.

"Hannah." At first, she couldn't believe it was Susan who had spoken, Susan, who was neat and tidy (so much so it occasionally drove Hannah crazy) and always stood up straight, graceful in her own way as she towered over all of the girls and most of the boys.

Now, her plait was messy, her eyes were red, and she slumped, the weight of this world too heavy for her, her eyes almost level with Hannah's. Susan knew the unavoidable truth too. She understood.

"Su - " she started, then stopped, unable to finish the word. They looked at each other for a moment, and both knowing they didn't have anything to say - what could they say? So they simply hugged, taking a small comfort in the fact that at least they still had each other. Then Susan walked on, staring straight ahead but looking at nothing at all.

A few minutes later, Ernie passed by her, his expression somber. He opened his mouth when he saw her, then closed it, nodding instead. For the first time in his life, he did not make a pompous remark, and for the first time in _hers_, she wished he had. She almost felt like crying - she didn't understand this new world, where Susan slouched and Ernie closed his mouth and children were scared and _her mum wasn't there_.

She scanned the faces of the people around her to see if they understood what she was missing. It did not appear so - all she saw was fear and sadness, worry and pain. She couldn't help thinking, fruitlessly, foolishly, that if You-Know-Who could see these faces, he'd stop this insanity, this madness. She knew he wouldn't.

Suddenly, the expressions changed, and Hannah saw anger and disgust join the emotions that were parading across everyone's faces. She looked around and spotted the reason - Draco Malfoy and his mother had just appeared on the platform. Mrs. Malfoy swept by everyone, her face haughty, set, and Draco smirked as a first-year squeaked in fright and jumped out of their way. Despite this, Hannah detected the smallest trace of fear in their eyes too. She had been prepared to hate the sight of Draco Malfoy, to glorify in his every discomfort because his father's friends were undoubtedly the ones who had snuffed out her mum's life. Now, however... she still hated him, would always hate him, but it did not make her feel better to see that the Malfoys were just as scared as she was, just as scared as everyone was. If even _they_were afraid, then what did that mean for her, plump, good-for-nothing Hannah Abbott, lowly Hufflepuff?

"Hannah?" her dad asked softly, coming out of his reverie and saying something for the first time since they'd entered the platform. She turned to face him, wincing at the worry lines in his face, the gray strands in his hair, which had not been there before her mother died. "Hannah?" he repeated, reaching out an arm and hugging her close. "Are you all right?"

She closed her eyes, trying not to cry. Like so many other times, she failed, and two tears slid slowly down her face. Of course she wasn't all right. How could he even ask such a question? The world was dark, and she was lost. "No," she said. "Daddy..."

"Shush," he murmured. "It'll be okay." It wouldn't, but she did not say it.

The train whistle blew, not a welcome, this time, but a warning. She didn't want to go, didn't want her father to remove his arm from her shoulder, much less let him out of her sight. What if this was the last time she ever saw him?

"You have to get on," he whispered. "We all have to get through..."

They'd considered going into hiding, so that she wouldn't have to face Hogwarts again at all, but her father, forever a Ravenclaw, felt that the smarter move would be to keep their heads down and do everything they were told. Within reason, of course. He always acted within reason, but Hannah wasn't like that. She looked like him, was nearly a carbon copy, which was a shame, according to nearly everyone. Her mum was a beauty, tall and slim, but Hannah hadn't inherited any of that.

In nature, however, she'd always been her mum's. They were both Hufflepuffs, loyal and too damn stubborn for their own good. At least, that was how Hannah had used be - now, she was a coward, slinking around, doing everything her mum's murderers were telling her to.

They were loading up the train, now, so her dad gave her one last hug, whispering, "I love you," before he pushed her onto the train.

She didn't look back at him - she couldn't. It was too painful.

She found the compartment with Ernie and Susan, then flopped onto a seat and sobbed.

At last, her tears subsided; she had already cried to much to have very many tears left.

Zacharias Smith and Megan Jones had joined the compartment, and were talking with Ernie and Susan. It was hard to hear them, as they were all speaking in whispers. Who might be listening, she didn't know, but in these times, it didn't seem to be an unnecessary precaution.

They were all speculating, wondering what this year was going to be like, with Snape as Headmaster and the new teachers, the Carrows, whoever they were, and so many of their friends just _gone_. The last topic was the most sensitive - Zacharias Smith seemed to think that Harry Potter had taken the easy way out, but no one else wanted to think about the danger everyone in hiding was probably in right now. None of them, including Zacharias, could even bear to mention Justin's name. Hannah hoped he was okay - she didn't want to think about the alternative.

The conversation went in circles because none of them really knew anything, had any idea of what would happen this year. Eventually, they fell into silence.

She lost Ernie and Hannah when they got off the train, and even though she was seventeen and knew exactly where she was - Hogsmeade - she still felt like a five-year-old who had just lost sight of her mother at the shopping center. Her chest felt tight; she could hardly breathe. Then suddenly, someone grabbed her wrist, and she was a second away from screaming when she saw Neville Longbottom's pudgy, familiar face.

"Nev," she said. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he said, looking ashamed. He looked different too, but it wasn't in the same way that Ernie and Susan had. Neville had only grown taller, her face was slightly leaner, and his voice had deepened. Slight changes, all, but she noticed them, and they did not make her cringe like the other differences had.

He took a deep breath, scanning the crowd around them before saying, "So, Ginny, Luna, and I were thinking of starting up the D.A. again, you know, because of Snape being in charge and Harry not being here, and You-Know-Who. And we're trying to find out who wanted to join again."

He looked at her, and she didn't know what to say.

He went on. "I know it'll be dangerous, but - "

"So why are you doing it, then?" she asked, feeling close to tears again. It was probably irrational, but she didn't want to think of anymore fighting, of anyone else dying.

For a moment, he seemed to consider this. At last, he said, "Because of my parents. They fought and I..." his voice cracked, "... I want to be like them."

This made her think of her own parents, of her mum, who was gone, who had left nothing of herself behind.

Except for Hannah.

This thought made her feel brave, gave her strength. She was not alone, not lowly, she was _Hannah Abbott, _shy, perhaps, but stubborn, loyal. With a fierceness that seemed to almost shock Neville, she said, "You couldn't _stop_ me."

She was her mother's daughter, and nothing - _nothing_ - could ever change that.


	11. Albus' Best Kept Secret, by FirstYear

**Albus' Best Kept Secret**

**_by_**

**_FirstYear (Gryffindor)_**

_Albus Dumbledore_

AberforthDumbledore sat at the kitchen table, hunched over his plate, shovelling food in his mouth as his sister, younger by a year, sat next to him, staring out the window and pouting. He would on occasion cut his eyes to her, making sure she sat still and was not twisting her hair or fidgeting, which was the first signs that her anger was bubbling over and she would soon lose control.

"How's she doing?" Albus asked as he walked in the room and poured himself a cup of tea.

"Fine…for now."

"If Mum is taking you as far as Hogsmeade, what does she plan to do with _her_?"

"Auntie Honoria."

Albus nodded and pulled out his watch, seeing it was time to go as the front door bell rang. "See you at school."

"Mum said you were to go with us."

"Yeah, well, this is my last year and I am going the Doge. I told her we are going to overnight in Diagon."Grinning he opened the door and stepped out with Elphias, excited to see his friend after what had seemed the longest summer of his life. Giving each other a quick hug, they finished by slapping each other's shoulders and stepped back from one another, glancing around to make sure they had gone unnoticed.

"Thought this summer would never end." Albus shoved his hands in his pockets and started down the pavement with his long legged gait. "I hate this place. Talk about back water towns."

"I've got tonnes of information on the tour. Wait until you see what I have planned."

"Got it with you?"

"Right here," Elphias said patting his breast pocket. "We can get a room at The Leaky Cauldron and go over them tonight if you want. Train doesn't leave until ten. Just think, in less than a year we will be in Italy, France, Russia…I wish we could just toss it all and go now."

"We should get a room in Muggle London. Never know who we may run into at the Cauldron."

"Afraid?"

"No," Albus muttered, looking at Doge from the corner of his eye. "I just can't afford the gossip right now. You know how my Mum is."

"So we'll be careful." Elphias shoved his hands in his pockets, keeping his eyes on the pavement, matching his strides to Albus. "Come on, lighten up. We can have a last night in Diagon before Headmaster Black gets his teeth unto us again."

"We have to be careful this year. That old codger will use any excuse to get us tossed out on our arses."

"Me maybe," Elphias said laughing. "Not his great star pupil Mr. Dumbledore. My Merlin man, you give him bragging rights. I bet he already has your future laid out."

Albus could not help but feel a flush of pride at Elphias' comment. The Headmaster had indeed spoken to him about his future and what further studies he might consider. An unusual thing for the average Wizard to contemplate as most professions required an apprenticeship, not formal study for which he would have to travel to either Greece or Russia.

Albus had been further confused that as a member of the Gryffindor house Headmaster Black had singled him out over the Slytherins that he preferred. It had not taken long for the Headmaster to turn the conversation to Albus' father, a known Muggle hater and Azkaban prisoner that had died rather then give in to the Ministry's pressure. Albus had recognised the honour it gave his name in one house, while in his own the name Dumbledore was still a name of fear and loathing.

"You have a bright future ahead of you young man. Yes, yes, a bright future if only you can throw off the yoke of family ties. Your mother...she is not from around here?" The Headmaster had asked as he smiled and waved Albus to a chair.

"Her father was Welsh." Was all he had offered, keeping Kendra's background to himself.

"A pureblood?"

Albus had only looked up from under his brows, letting the question hang in the air as Headmaster Phineas Black had moved quickly to his desk and began rifling through his papers, knowing that he really was not looking for an answer and only talking to fill silence.

"Here it is. A school in Piter." He smiled widely and handed Albus the literature. "A fine city…the capital…so much to see…so much awaits you."

"Russia? Sir, my Russian is weak at best, and abyssal for study." Albus had tried to explain only to have Phineas wave his hand to silence him. Albus now remembered the feeling of pride and the worry that he could not master the language without a tutor, unwilling to admit such a thing aloud.

"I did learn Russian," he laughed and slapped Doge on the shoulder. "Even if I don't go to school there it should come in handy for our trip."

The two seventh years students made their way to the local pub, from which they flooed to The Leaky Cauldron. Once there, Albus stepped out to the back while Doge paid for a room and pocketed the key. Ginning as he joined Albus he tapped a brick wall with his wand and stood back as the stones realigned themselves to an open doorway.

"I never get tired of watching that," Albus said with a grin. "Where first?"

"We need dress robes."

"You can waste your money. I don't plan on going to any …"

"You have to," Elphias said quietly. "I hear that Black has had this planned since last year's event. Durmstrang is coming."

"I don't care if Merlin himself is there. I need to buy luggage. We won't be able to floo on tour."

"You could do something better," Doge laughed, pointing to a window display of old world Wizard's garb. "He always says he likes the old ways."

Albus lowered his chin to his chest and looked up under his brows, wondering what Headmaster Black would do if he showed up wearing flowing satin robes in blues and yellows. He started to grin and nodded his agreement then walked into the shop to find the most outlandish colours he could, while still dressing as a _proper _wizard.

They spent the rest of the day sauntering through the Alley, visiting shops they had not been in for a year, Doge making several purchases, Albus being selective and saving his money for the bookshop. Hearing Doge's stomach grumble Albus laughed and started toward The Leaky Cauldron where they had a late dinner, lingering over a glass of mead before they headed up to their room.

Morning came too quickly. Albus hurried through his bath, wrapped a towel around his waist and began to pull his school uniform out of his trunk as Elphias started his own daily toiletries. Muttering under his breath when someone knocked on the door, he stood and quickly slid his legs into his trousers, not taking the time to do the buttons or put on undergarments, and threw it open, ready to berate an early housekeeper.

"Mum?" he said, the air rushing out of his lungs.

"Is that how you dress to answer your door? I explicitly told you that you were not to come here," Kendra snapped as she pushed him aside and stormed into the room. "I would have come yesterday but couldn't leave your sister. Do you remember your sister? The one that is in tears because you did not so much as…"

Kendra stopped as Elphias opened the door to the loo and started to walk into the room, only a towel held in front of him to save his dignity. Spinning back toward Albus, she saw the set of his jaw and the lift of his chin that exposed a small purple mark on his throat, knowing in that moment what was happening.

"You will come home with me at once," she spat.

"No," Albus said evenly. "I…we…are taking the Hogwarts Express."

"I forbid it!"

"You are in no position to forbid anything. I am of age."

Kendra turned to the door, fumbling with the knob, unable to open it as she felt her eyes well with tears. Suddenly, Albus was behind her, his hand rested on hers as he helped her turn the rusty handle.

"I love you, Mum, but this is who I am," he whispered in her ear.

She turned and studied his face and looked over his shoulder to Elphias who stood toeing the floor, his chest flushed and a hint of colour rising up his neck.

"Albus." she sighed and laid her hand on his cheek. "Are you sure? You know how hard this will be? You know what will happen if…"

"I know."

"Promise me…promise me…"she stammered, unable to continue.

"I promise I will write Ariana a letter. You can read it to her."

"I don't mean that."

"I know. However, it is the only thing I will promise you right now."

She had to stand on her toes to reach his neck as she threw her arms around him and hugged him as tightly as she could, feeling his arms hesitantly slide weakly around her. "I love you, Albus. No matter what happens, I love you. I just want you to be safe and this…this will make you a target…you have to know that. You have to know how this world…and the Muggle world…frowns on this sort of thing."

"More than having a sister such as Ariana? More than having a father who died in Azkaban? I am quite the master at keeping secrets. You have taught me well."

"I don't understand it," she whispered.

"There is nothing to understand. You either accept it…or I leave."

"I have to go," she said uncomfortably, unable to meet his eyes, and unable to acknowledge the young man that obviously meant more to her son that she was able to grasp.

"Should I come home for the holidays?" Albus asked, waiting for her answer, knowing it would define the rest of his life.

"Yes, of course," she said with her voice shaking, then paused and visibly stiffened her back. "Elphias? You are of course welcomed as well."

Albus held the front of his trousers closed as he leaned out of the door and watched Kendra walk down the hall, feeling relief wash over him and a sense of family and love he had never experienced before. Turning back to Doge he let his tears fall, seeing the look of surprise and wonder on his friend's face.

A/N: Piter is the old name of St. Petersburg.


End file.
